


A Father is not important but a Dad is.

by kidd0o



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 76 is father figure, Other, Reader is male
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidd0o/pseuds/kidd0o
Summary: You finally get the father your mother wanted you to have.
Relationships: Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	A Father is not important but a Dad is.

There were shots being fired in all directions, it was unsure where they came from but they all had the same mission: kill. Several bottles filled with liquid and a burning rag were thrown around as well. It had been a couple of decades since the Omnic Crisis, even so there was still brutal fights and turmoil in parts of the world. Everything happened so fast your young mind went into shock as you blankly stared around. 

You and your mother had scraped enough money to go on vacation to Mexico, your father had left when your were 2 years old. You had asked your mother when you were older about him but she said in a disgusted tone that he left with his girlfriend. She would refuse to tell you anymore, not willing to tell you how he acted or even what job he had. Your mother couldn't rely on her family, they had disowned her when she married your father. It was just you and your mother. Your mother was not mean but rather stern, raising a child on her own was difficult. Even though life was tough for the both of you, your mother decided it was time for a break. Even though you wanted to go to London, your mother could only afford to go to Mexico. You were a bit upset at this but learned to have fun on the vacation anyways. There was a small party that the town, that you were both staying in, holding a celebration for Dia de Los Muertos. A celebration held to honor the dead as well as to honor the life that many still have. Enjoying the memory of Family members and friends who no longer walked the land of the living. Many people were dressed in traditional clothing, faces painted white and black as skulls.

"mama, muer-toss mean dead. Oh and who-gar means play!" You said, even though you pronounced it terribly, your mother was still proud, and giggled.

"I'm proud of you, you are shaping up to be quiet the translator." Your mother said as you both stood around in the circle and watched the people dance inside. The bright colorful skirts of the women swaying in waves as the men held tightly to their waists. Their suits black with shining silver as their hats didn't budge from their heads. Their steps could be heard in tune with the clapping and whooping of the audience as the music was sharp and energetic.

"Mama are we going to get more tacos?" you asked after you saw a couple walk by eating some tacos. Some of the onions slipping out when they chomped on the meaty goodness.

"Of course honey." 

"gra-sauce"

You had picked up a little Spanish from the couple of days you and your mother had spent here. You would be so proud to tell your mother what something in Spanish meant. Your mother would smile and tell you good job and to keep up the hard work. You played with the other children, but then went back to your mother when they started to speak only Spanish. Your Spanish was limited, so it was often that you would be left out or lagging behind despite your charismatic and friendly attitude. A band started to play a different song to which you tried to ignore, your mother on the other hand seemed very interested. You were about seven years old, and didn't care much for what was happening anymore quickly trying to focus and entertain yourself with something else. You were bored and just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep. You were about to tell your mother you wanted to go back and sleep when she stepped in front of you in a protective manner. You didn't even notice that the crowds yells of excitement had turned to yells of terror and the band had stopped playing.

The gang members of Los Muertos had just crashed the party. They had demanded money from everyone and went straight to a man, he seemed like an important political figure judging from the gold rings and round belly he had. He was probably out not only to enjoy the festivities but to try and get/stay in the good graces of the community. Slowly everyone started to put their money and valuables in a bag that one of the members had out. It was a simple bag, on the bag you could that it was originally a bean bag. A general bag at the local market that held 4 pounds of uncooked beans, you noticed it earlier when you are your mother grazed through the market earlier that day. When it came to your mother to put everything you had in the bag, several police men had started shooting. Everyone began to panic again and even more, several people bumped into you and your mother. Your mother grabbed your arm and began to run with you. Her grip was strong, causing your skin to burn and would most likely leave a mark. A bruise on your arm is the least of your problems at the moment. You ran as fast as your legs could take you, your mother helping you run faster often dragging you in front of her before your pace brought you behind her. Something wet and warm spilled on your back and then you were tackled by your mother. Her arm was draped over your back, something was soaking your shirt. You looked at your hand and saw blood trailing up your arm. The blood of your mother. Your mother was calm even though she was bleeding to death. The pain in your side had not registered when you stared wide eyed at your blood soaked mother. Her hair and back wet and stained red from the several bullet holes that littered her back and neck. 

"Can you promise mama something?" Your mother asked, her breaths were shallow. She wasn't going to last much longer, a tight feeling in your chest constricted your heart. You had learned about death, it was no stranger to you. The lessons your mother had given you after seeing road kill, the dead neighbors cat and even a man taken in an ambulance when the two of you went to the market one day.

"Yes mama" you said calmly, shock had infested your system.

"Stay a good boy for mama. I'll see you again someday my little man", she said before she became still. Her eyes didn't close, her chest stopped rising but her hand still warm.

You sat up and watched the chaos that was unfolding. Police men and gang members dying, sadly the police were losing. Their uniformed bodies littering the happily decorated plaza, blood everywhere. You sat there, your eyes looked like that of a dead fish, blood sticking in your short soft hair, your clothes soaked, blood dripping down the side of your face, your right arm and left hand stained red, as silent tears ran down your face clearing a path through the blood. When the last police officer decided to run instead of fight, the gang members started to kill the people who were hiding and wounded that were left on the street. When they came to you, you held onto your mothers hand waiting to see hear her talk again. You closed your eyes and waited but all you hear was a grunt and a smack. A man who seemed to be about 6'1, with a white hair, a metal mask that covered almost everything but his forehead and had a red line where his eyes would be had punch the gang member away from you, it seemed like he had a large scar on his face but you couldn't tell because of the mask. You watched the man shoot back, punch, and scare all the members that had remained. Soon it was silent in the square. The man's hair was short, the wore a suit that was mainly blue and black with some white and red as well. He seemed older than 30 years old from the hair color standing proudly on his head, but still very healthy and active based off of how he was handling himself and his appearance. On his back was a large red number that took up all of his back, the number was 76. After the fight was over the man looked around and saw you sitting there, holding your dead mother's hand that had grown cold. After a few moments he put away his gun and walked toward you, something inside him broke, he knew he couldn't just leave you there. He was ready to leave you there, let the local authorities deal with you but he just couldn't. He felt himself being pulled towards this young boy. He couldn't tell if it was hidden parental instincts but he couldn't leave, not without you. He knelled in front of you, he looked over your trying to determine the damage that had been done on you, both physically and mentally. 

"Son, is there anywhere you can go." his voice deep and rough with age and experience.

"No, me and mama only had each other. She said we could get tacos before we go to bed", you said as tears continued to run down your face.

The man looked away, he had never taken care of a child before. Sure when he was still called a hero he had his fair share on interactions with them but only for a moment. He didn't even know if he could take care of one, but he knew that he couldn't leave you, he could tell you had broke. He was a fast learner and he hoped this wouldn't be an exception.

"Son, your mother is...... I think it would be best if your came with me." He said, he hesitated before he picked you up, you didn't let go of your mother's hand until he stood up fully. Your mother's hand making a wet slap on the brick floor. He realized that this boys innocence was taken from him, killed along with his mother. 

He began to walk away, you looked over his shoulder to take one final look at your mother, struggling to stay awake. The shock finally wearing out your body. Your blood soaked body staining his clothes.

"Bye mama, I'll see you again someday and I'll tell you all the things I've learned. I'll keep working hard." 

You passed out staining the man's shoulder with blood with wet blood and tears, the man was covered in several people's blood but he didn't seem to mind. It seemed like he was use to this much blood and death. The man stopped then turned to the body of your mother. He waited a minute, wondering if he should say anything or not.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I will be sure you are laid to rest properly. I promise I will take good care of the bo-...your boy", he said softly, then turned and walked out of the square. You were draped over his shoulder exactly like how a son would be over his father.

~20 years later(Present day)~

"Yo pops, heads up" You said as you shot a grenade that was making it's way towards your father.

After your mother's death the older man had taken you in. You later found out his name was Jack Morrison, or solider 76 as he preferred to be called. For security reasons that is. He often called you solider, soon just like him you had a bounty over your head. Often times the bounty was attached to his, stating that you were an accomplice going by the name of solider. He had raised and trained you into a great fighter. You helped him in his personal mission to hunt down the people who attacked him and his fellow soldiers at the Overwatch head quarters. You were faster, more agile and stronger than Jack when he was around your age before he was incorporated into the SEP program. Your outfit similar except that your mask completely covered your face and head, it was all black and reflective. Your suit all black as well with strips of gray at the joints and chest. Your mask had a somewhat fancy feature that you could take it off while the head covering would retreat into the neck of the suit. Your voice had deepen a lot, almost rivaling Jack's. You had an inch over Jack in height, but in terms of muscles, you matched Jack. Oddly over the years Jack hadn't seem to age at all. You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing since he already looked old when you first met him as a child.

You were currently both in Mexico, in the same place where your mother had died. You hadn't been here since, through out the years you and Jack had traveled the world fighting, struggling and looking out for each other. Jack had suggested to visit your mother's grave, something about saying goodbye one last time. At first you were hesitant to go, then angry and then finally accepting. You both came at night to avoid being noticed, being wanted fugitives didn't exactly let you walk around during the day whenever you wanted. Your face was not as notorious so you often times went out in common clothes to gather supplies, information or do other errands. The graveyard was cold, a few minutes till midnight, a few minutes till the anniversary of your mother's death. You pushed a part of the mask and removed it while the cover retreated. The air smelt of rusty metal and dirt. The cold air licked the back of your head and scratched at your cheeks. You have kept your hair short, barely grown out of the military hair cut that Jack insisted you have. You felt that it was one of the fatherly things he secretly loved doing. Your mother's tombstone was simple but strong, weather had taken its toll but it still stood. You placed some flowers you had bought earlier that day in a stone circle imbedded at the base. There was no grass in the graveyard, instead it was dirt and pebbles. You sat down in front of the light gray tombstone. The letters engraved in the stone.

"Hi mama, you wouldn't believe all the things I have done. I know three languages now, I'm the best solider according to papa, and I don't look like your little man anymore." You turned to look where Jack was. He was at the edge of the graveyard, his back facing you. He kept guard as you gave your respects to your late mother.

"I know you always wanted me to have a dad, well a good one. I think you would have liked him a lot, he may seem cruel but he actually has a heart of gold. He's actually a big softy. He always has my back, taken more bullets for me than I could count. He remembers what I like to eat, what I don't. He is strong mama, real strong. He may look old but he could've fooled me by how he moves. Hell he even celebrates my birthday. I miss you a lot mama, but I will make this world better so that no one has to go through what you went through. So that I don't have to miss you as much as I have to."

A hand was placed on your shoulder, looking up you saw Jack. He had a single rose, he held it waiting for his turn to talk to your mother. You gave a small smile, your dad was always the gentleman, always respectful despite his vigilante life.

"Son, we need to be leaving soon" Jack said as he saw the gang members passing the graveyard, they had started to look for both of you.

"Don't worry dad, I'm almost done" , you then faced the tombstone again.

"I'm sorry mama, I have to leave. I promise that I will visit and talk to you again. I love you mama" you then got up and jogged towards the exit to stand guard, leaving Jack with your mother while you wiped your face. Clearly embarrassed that you had started to cry. 

"Ma'am, your son has turned into a fine solider and an even better man. You would be proud of him, I know I am. I am proud to call him my son." Jack then place the rose on top of the tombstone. He turned and left to where you were, he grabbed onto your shoulder. 

"Son, I'm proud of you. Now show your old man how it's done" he said as he reloaded his weapon as you both approached a few Los muertos gang members. You chuckled as you checked your weapon as well, almost a carbon copy of Jack's just a little smaller.

"You got it Dad" you said quietly before aiming your weapon.

**Author's Note:**

> originally work on my deviant. [was originally a comission]  
> https://www.deviantart.com/kidd0o/art/Soilder-76-x-Reader-son-Oneshot-683823186


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